I just posted a picture on Instagram and had requests about it, so here's the recipe for those of you who are interested.

First off, I was inspired by this recipe from Half Baked Harvest. I adore that blog, AND her cookbook, so if you're not familiar with it, consider yourself in for a huge treat when you go peek. :)

I tweaked her recipe, and here's what I came up with:

Cinnamon Knots

1 1/2 cups of warm water
2 1/4 tsp. yeast
2 T sugar

Dissolve sugar and yeast in warm water and leave it for 10 min.

Add:
3 1/2 cups flour
2 T melted butter
1 tsp salt

Knead for a few minutes in your stand mixer (or with your hands or a wooden spoon.)

Roll the dough out flat in the shape of a big rectangle.

Spread some softened butter across the dough and sprinkle brown sugar and cinnamon over the butter. (Maybe 3-4 T of softened butter, about 3 T of brown sugar and then just shake the cinnamon over that.)

Fold the dough in half, pressing the dough down with your fingers or the palm of your hand. (I also rolled my rolling pin over the folded dough again to press in the sugar mixture.)

Cut into strips. (I used a pizza cutter.)

Taking one strip at a time and pinching the ends with your thumb and forefinger, twist the strips and literally tie a knot into the middle of the strip. The remaining dough (the ends, around the knot) you will just sort of scrunch around the knot as you're lying it onto the pan. Use parchment paper or a silpat, and leave a bit of room around each one, like you would for cookies.

Cover your knots with greased plastic wrap and let rise for 45 min to an hour. (I turn the oven light on and stick them into the oven so there's no draft.)

I know the lighting or the filter made it look like they were fruity but they weren't. HOWEVER, rather than spreading the softened butter + cinnamon + brown sugar mixture, you could spread some berry or peach jam (YUM. Trust me. I have done this.) And follow the recipe from there. I'm personally not a big fan of cinnamon with berries so I would skip the cinnamon and only sprinkle butter & brown sugar over the top, but there you go. They will be messier but delicious. :)

The details aren't important, but when he pulled back the covers on his side of the bed, I was upset and he knew it. (He had walked in a few minutes earlier and asked if I was mad at him. I'd said no but my eyes and body language said otherwise.) As he settled into bed beside me, I was turned away from him and was spending my time silently musing over all the reasons I was justified in feeling hurt by his actions.

I half-expected him to reach out to me, cautiously settling his hand on my waist-- because he usually does, but I also knew if he did that I would shrug his hand off. (He probably guessed that would be my reaction, too, which is maybe why he didn't.)

Minutes passed, and as I lay there I thought of some lines from the song by Sara Groves called Roll to the Middle. I'll include the lyrics here if you're not familiar with the song:

We just had a World War III here in our kitchenWe both thought the meanest thingsAnd then we both said themWe shot at each other till we lost ammunition

This is how I know our loveThis is when I feel it’s powerHere in the absence of itThis is my darkest hourWhen both of us are hunkered downAnd waiting for the truce

All the complicated warsThey end pretty simpleHere when the lights go downWe roll to the middle

No matter how my pride resistsNo matter how this wall feels trueNo matter how I can’t be sureThat you’re gonna roll in tooNo matter what, no matter whatI’m going to reach for you

And I had the thought, "One of us should roll to the middle; relent, reach out to the other right about now." (But I didn't want it to be me, of course, so I remained seething on my side of the bed.)

And then it occurred to me: Mark was already "rolled to the middle"; he was facing me, available for conversation, it was me with the walls up. So I bit back my pride and rolled over and reached out to him and we began talking. And all became well again.

I love that last verse of the song: No matter how my pride resists, no matter how this wall feels true, .... no matter what, no matter what, I'm going to reach for you.

I'm so thankful to be married to this man who is always sure to have rolled to the middle first, who is quick to reach out to me. He is so good to me, and is a constant reminder to me of God's tender love and mercy toward me, who is so undeserving of it.

My Ella, a kindred spirit of mine in all things, including her mutual love of this season, told me recently that one of her friends said, "Why do people even like Fall? Everything is dying. It's just dead leaves everywhere. It signifies death."

Later, when I was alone and I recalled that conversation, I realized that this season has signified death for our family.

~

It was late summer when I found out, to my great joy, that I was expecting another baby. I whispered the news to Mark and we were cautiously optimistic (cautious, because our last two pregnancies have ended in miscarriage. Optimistic, because what were the chances of that happening AGAIN? We have been content in this place, surrendered to the idea that I would likely not get pregnant again. So unexpected news felt like a great gift.) We decided to keep the news to ourselves for awhile (and not even tell the kids) because we wanted so much to protect their hearts. Some of the most heart-wrenching moments in my life are those that followed the telling to our children of our first loss: that the little baby brother or sister they were so eagerly anticipating had died within me.

And so we waited, and God gave us the strength to hope and He quieted my fears and I was really sick and we were counting down the days to the first ultrasound after which we would then get to reveal this amazing news to our kids.

The day for the ultrasound arrived, the appointment time came and I eagerly put on the gown and settled in to hear and see our baby. Except as the technician moved her wand over my tummy, the room was silent; the screen was still. My mind rushed to explain this: Maybe she just doesn't have the right angle yet. Maybe she still needs to zoom in.

I looked at Mark in the dim room with questions in my eyes-- he'll know if we should be worried right now-- and he was focused, searching himself.

Still I hoped. Until the truth was spoken aloud, I hoped. And then I was crushed. I can't even think of that day without the tears falling. I was so stunned. I had so hoped. Why, when we were so content, would God offer this sweet gift to us, allow us the joy of hoping and dreaming about this little life to join our family, and then retrieve that gift? For the third time?

We walked quietly out of the room, down the hall, through the office where minutes before I had filled out paperwork and cheerfully anticipated good news, opened the main door and stepped outside. We hesitated then, just outside the door. I sucked in air and said something to the effect of, "I can't believe we are here in this place again." And then we walked the rest of the way to our vehicle. It was only within the quiet of that space that I felt the freedom to cry.

Mark drove to his work to wrap things up for the day and come home with me early, and I had about half-hour in the car by myself. I remembered then Ellie Holcomb talking about the story behind her song Find You Here. She said that when her dad found out he had cancer, her parents invited all their friends and family over for a night of worship. Right there in the thick of the dark news. And that it was a beautiful night of proclaiming Jesus in the midst of the hurt.

It's not the news that any of us hoped that we would hearIt's not the road we would have chosen, noThe only thing that we can see is darkness up aheadBut You're asking us to lay our worry down and sing a song instead

You say that I should come to You with everything I needYou're asking me to thank You even when the pain is deepYou promise that You'll come and meet us on the road aheadAnd no matter what the fear says, You give me a reason to be glad

Find You Here, Ellie Holcomb (first two verses)

So as I sat in our vehicle and waited for Mark to join me, I sang. I sang and sobbed right there when my pain was raw. I certainly didn't feel like singing, but I forced myself to. That song, and Praise the Lord (the Imperials).

And then we drove home to tell our kids the news I never wanted to have to tell them again.

I never meant to stop blogging. I've always been fond of this quiet little space here. Over the years it's become a file cabinet for me-- a place to store favorite recipes, memories, photos, ideas, school plans, book lists, struggles and joys. Like my own little bullet journal, but less listy and more chatty.

And then our camera broke, so I had no access to photos except for the ones on my phone, which aren't great photos.

Readers kept reading but stopped commenting, and while that shouldn't matter and I wish it didn't, it does.

And life is busy, and time is short.

So I eventually stopped.

I joined Instagram, (yes, seven whole years late to the party) thinking maybe I'll do that instead, (and upon getting there my first thought was, "Oh. So THIS is where everyone went." I really was dumbfounded; I hadn't known it was such a thing. I understand the draw of it- short, snippets of life caught in photos. But honestly it's not my favorite format. I like words over photos. I prefer a blog post to an Instagram post.

Anyway. This isn't a post to officially announce that I've stopped blogging.

And it isn't a post to say that I'm officially back to writing here in this space.

But suddenly I have three topics percolating in my mind and I may just write them. I don't know if anyone will read or comment, but I want to put those words somewhere so it may as well be here, adding it to these files.

Imagine with me, if you will, a woman with rich brown skin and tight black curls, aged and graying, narrating the story of her people to you. We'll lean in to hear her recollections of the time after the war:

Union soldiers occupied southern towns to keep the peace but didn't do much to protect black people from new groups of mean white, like the Ku Klux Klan, who threatened us all year long. To stop black folks from voting, Klansmen marched in front of their homes wearing white sheets over their heads, shooting out the windows and burning homes to the ground, or worse, dragging black folks out of their homes to lynch them. The law didn't do a thing to stop it. Shoot, some of the men wearing the sheets were lawmen. It was their way of "keeping us in our place", wherever that was supposed to be. They couldn't stand to see us trying to be equal to whites. They were convinced that they were somehow superior to black people. My grandmother used to call it "the Sickness." Whatever it was, it was just plain mean, honey. Lord knows how those folks could fix it in their minds to do the things they did to us back then. It's a miracle we made it through.

-from Kadir Nelson's Heart and Soul: The Story of America and African Americans

~

Mark, holding our Adelia for the very first time

Charlottesville.
White Supremacy.
KKK.
Racism.

These were the topics of our dinnertime conversation last night. It's a difficult and emotional
thing to look across the table at my brown-skinned children and have these conversations.

We spoke of the evil that is prevalent and active, of "the Sickness"- as Kadir Nelson's book puts it. We talked about the history of the black people, of Martin Luther King, Jr. and peaceful protests.
We talked about cycles of poverty.
Of fear.
We spoke of how God is the ultimate Victor, not Satan nor evil or darkness, not in the end.
We spoke of how it might feel for a black person in the wake of this evil and others: One of our kids: "They must think, 'Will this ever change? Will this ever get any better? When will this be done?'" We spoke of skin color and the beauty of it.
We tried to answer their questions: "Why would a white person kill a white person if their hatred is toward black people?" "Is it only white people who are racist?"
We spoke of how much we oppose this. Vehemently. That it angers and saddens us. We shed tears. We spoke of standing for what is right in the midst of people who won't.
We spoke of the courage and the strength of black men and women who have borne the weight of this for years and are still bearing it. And of the self-control so many possess in the face of hatred and violence.

I distinctly remember being a girl fresh out of school for the summer and being able to spend my time any way I wanted. What I wanted was to curl up the on the couch with a good book to read. I loved the luxury of being able to read to my heart's content.

I still do.

I don't get hour upon hour of reading time anymore, but libraries and bookstores are some of my favorite places, I have stacks of books everywhere in my home and always by my bed, and I'm usually in the middle of at least one book. I also love to pass along good book recommendations. So, here are two for your summer reading pleasure:

First up: Wolf Hollow, by Lauren Wolk.

I spotted this book on a library display last week while I was there with my kids, perused it briefly-- which means reading the back, the inside flap, and at least the first few sentences. (Sometimes I'll also flip halfway through the book and read a few lines, to see if it catches my interest.) It did. I brought it home and finished it in a matter of hours. I could not put it down. Then I immediately wondered how I hadn't read this yet? (Am I the very last person to hear about this book?!?)

I loved this story, and the characters within it. This is considered a middle-grade reader, so it's an easy read, but the content is rich and the writing truly beautiful.

Our narrator is an almost-twelve-year-old girl named Annabelle, and you will love her. She is courageous, kind and compassionate. I don't want to give anything away, so I will say only this:Do not miss this story.

I am scrapping all other read-aloud plans for the immediate future and reading this, all over again, to Mark and the three older kids. (My two youngest (8 & 9) will not be joining us for this one, due to a mean classmate who is frighteningly cruel and I just think their hearts are still too tender for that.)

~

Secondly: The Secrets of Wishtide, by Kate Saunders. This is told first-person by an older widowed woman named Laetitia Rodd, "Letty". Letty's brother Fred is a criminal lawyer, and turns to Letty for her help in solving his case. Letty is such a likeable character, and I really enjoyed this story, and think you will, too.

Are there any books you've read recently that you'd like to recommend? Do tell.

Hello, dear friends. I hope you are all well. (Today it seems I have time to put up a blog post!)

We finished school over a month ago. I say "finished" which really means I was all done, so I ended with the little girls and supplied the older three with a list of what I wanted them to complete for the year (mostly math lessons). Last time I checked, one of them had finished their list and the other two are nearly there.... and I'm okay with that.

I have yet to do our end-of-the-year evaluations or testing, so I need to do those sometime soon.... but for NOW I am enjoying rest and summer and gardening. And the older kids are enjoying sleeping in. Our teens (Ella and Isaac) really love to stay up late, talking to us and snacking and then head to bed and reading for another hour or two, and then sleeping in until afternoon. It's summer so I am happy for them but am wondering how they'll transition back to real life in the fall.

Ella finished Driver's Ed in June, so she's happily driving us all around town with her permit, when she's not babysitting, which she loves to do.

Here is what else has been going on around the home front. We planted our garden late May. Here's a photo right after planting:

(I'll try to get an updated picture because it does NOT look like this now at all.)

They are responsible for caring for their little sections of the garden and as they harvest (and as I use or enjoy their harvest), I will pay them.

In addition to what the kids have going, I added tomatoes. They have been my favorite to plant for the past couple of years, so this year I went all out and purchased several varieties to see what grows well and what I like best. In addition to my standard choice of Sun Gold cherry tomatoes, I also potted two of each of the following varieties:

Cherokee Purple (Heirloom)
Brandywine
La Roma
San Marzano
Early Girl

Happy tomatoes in the garden.

(For whatever reason, in my (very limited) experience, tomatoes seem to do better in pots than directly planted in the ground, so my garden is full of pots of tomatoes. I had placed some pots in other areas around our patio and back garden, but the ones in our garden space were doing so much better that I've since moved all of the pots into our garden space. It's a wee bit crowded in there but I'm hoping they'll all thrive now.)

My first bouquet of peonies this spring. I love them so much!

I decided this year that I wanted to use our back garden (which in previous years has been planted with corn or pumpkins or squash) as a cutting garden, so I did a bit of research and decided to go with zinnias and dahlias this trial year. Here's a picture of our back garden space all ready for planting (props to Mark, for throwing up walls to hold the dirt):

I started them indoors under a grow light and when they got tall enough, gradually introduced them to the outdoors. Then I moved them for a couple of weeks to these pots until planting into the ground:

And just this week, snapped this picture:

(Those are my dahlias in the foreground. I have two (Melody Dora and Claudette) that are SO happy and one (Cafe au Lait) that keeps wanting to die on me, which is of course the one I was MOST excited to see bloom! Gr.)

My zinnias that are about a foot and a half tall now. Two have flowers already and many are nearly-there. However, according to my best resource on this subject, (this website: Floret Flowers, and her beautiful book Cut Flower Garden) it's time for me to pinch those flowers and I'm procrastinating because it's so hard to think of removing those precious flowers! I am assured that pinching encourages the plants to begin branching low and will ultimately produce longer stems and perhaps more blooms. It's on my list for this week.

The other really exciting news around our little backyard garden and farm is that in the nearly-ten years that we've been keeping chickens, we have always wanted to allow one of our hens to be a mama. We can't have a rooster in the city so we never have fertilized eggs, but occasionally we will have a hen (usually one of our Buffs) go broody on us and we've wished we could get ahold of some fertilized eggs for her. Well, this year the opportunity presented itself-- a co-worker of Mark's mentioned that she had eggs and we had a broody Buff-- our sweet old Elizabeth-- and so we jumped at the opportunity. She had been broody for five days already and then we set twelve eggs beneath her. We marked them with an "x". (Note: I cringed at the number Mark brought home because I was a bit terrified that all twelve might hatch and we do NOT need twelve more chickens in our yard (!!!)

It was a bit tricky because Elizabeth was sitting in the favored nesting box, so the other hens kept trying to wrangle their way in to lay, but she patiently shared space with them and kept sitting. She was such a good mama. She would get up and come out once a day for about five minutes to stretch, drink a lot of water, and eat a bit, and then she'd be back in to settle on her eggs. A few eggs were broken in the process, so we would remove those and any (unmarked) eggs our other hens were laying.

A chick has about a 21-day life cycle, so when it had been about 19 days of her sitting on the eggs, we began watching more closely. It was at this point that she stopped coming out for food or water at all, and we also closed off the back of the nesting box so that the other hens would stop pestering her. Then we kept running out and checking on her, offering her water and telling her what a good job she was doing, and listening for little peeps.

On the 23rd of June we heard peeping and saw one little head. A bit later we saw two.... then three... and out of the seven eggs Elizabeth was still sitting on, six ended up hatching. They were adorable, poking their little heads out from her feathers! Audra (8) pretty much camped outside her nesting box for days. Elizabeth stayed put in the nesting box for a couple of days until all had hatched (she kept sitting on #7 for a full day but then eventually got up and left it, and sure enough, when we checked, the baby chick had died at some point within the egg).

This was her a few days ago:

It has been so fun for us to watch her with her chicks. I keep telling Mark that I doubt any family has had as much joy as we have watching this whole process. It has been such a delight. She is such a good mama, those first few days, breaking up their food and setting it before them, clucking to them and nudging them to eat and drink and now teaching them to forage. It's my favorite thing to watch how she'll call them her side and they will duck underneath her feathers for safety or at nighttime. And also I love this stage (above) of them climbing all over her.

One more thing before I end this ever-long blog post: Mark and I were able to get away recently (to the ocean, of course; my happy place) to celebrate our 20th anniversary! I am so thankful for this man. He remains my best friend and I love doing life with him. It is a good thing, marriage, and I am so thankful to God for blessing us with the gift of one another and the grace to live out each day of these past twenty years.

~

Love to you and yours! I'd love to hear from you if you're able to say hi in the comments. :)